“See, Tas?” He spoke low, barely above a whisper. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe we’re not good for each other. But don’t lie to yourself. It’s more than just me pushing, more than you… feeling sorry for me. There’s a spark. You might not like it, but don’t pretend it’s not there.”
I swallowed hard and nodded. “I want us to be friends, Rafe. But if that’s going to be too hard, you need to tell me.”
He didn’t answer, and I turned to leave.
“Tas.” I stopped but didn’t face him. I wasn’t sure how much more either of us could stand.
“How long did it take? For you to call Michael?”
I bit my lip. “I—I didn’t. I sent him an email.”
“Ah.” There was a load of ironic humor packed into that single syllable. “And how did that work out for you? Are the dynamic duo back together?”
“I haven’t heard from him yet.”
“I’m sure he’ll call soon.” I felt his hand brush over the back of my hair. “But if not… you know where I live.”
I heard his departing footsteps. It took all of my budding new willpower not to turn around and go after him.
The rest of the afternoon was quiet, and so was the next day. I went through each class on autopilot, trying to find my normal again. There were whispers now about the mysterious disappearance of the chemistry teacher, but no one in King was going to miss Marica Lacusta.
Getting back to normal, I decided, was not unlike adjusting to a new school and town. It felt as though I was relearning everything, establishing new habits and boundaries.
I called my mother to check in the minute I walked in the door every afternoon. At dinner every night, I shared each detail of my day; I was so anxious for them to know that I wasn’t keeping any more secrets.
They never asked me if I had heard from Michael. I think they knew that if that happened, it would be the first thing I’d tell them. They were being tactful, but their sympathy was nearly my undoing each evening when the phone was silent.
I was struggling, too, not to use the powers that I’d been so carefully cultivating over the past months. It was hard to keep a stopper on the emotions that threatened to let loose a windstorm or make things fly around the room. I wondered if I needed some kind of de-tox program: Magiks Annonymous?
On Thursday afternoon, I stopped to see Amber before coming home. It was late afternoon by the time I walked into my empty house, and out of habit, I carefully locked the door behind me before settling down to some homework.
I had just opened my French book when I heard the doorbell. I frowned, wondering who it might be and trying not to think of whom I wished it were.
I was very surprised to see Caroline Brooks standing on my front porch. In her elegant suit and heels, she looked out of place although completely at ease.
I invited her inside and offered her a chair and some tea. She accepted the first and declined the second.
“Tasmyn, I’m sure you didn’t expect me this afternoon, and I’m very sorry to drop by without calling.”
“That’s okay,” I replied feebly, not sure of what to say.
“I’ll be brief. Please rest assured that I am not here to plead my grandson’s cause with you. I love Rafe dearly, as I am sure you know. He is an extraordinary young man. I also know that he has fancied himself in love with you since he arrived in King.”
I blushed and tried to formulate an answer. Mrs. Brooks held up one hand.
“No need to say anything, Tasmyn, dear. I know that your heart belongs elsewhere. I could tell that from the moment we met, but I will admit, I did hope… well, that perhaps with time, you would be able to love Rafe, too.”
“I do love him,” I murmured. “But just not the way he wants me to.”
She smiled. “I understand. But as I said, that’s not why I am here. As I think Rafe told you, Sam Lawrence shared with us the details of your unfortunate encounter with Marica Lacusta.” She shook her head. “I’m terribly sorry that things ended as they did. I was afraid—well, I think I warned you. I blame myself that I wasn’t more specific or perhaps even clearer about the danger. I’m very glad that you’re all right, dear.”
I smiled. I liked Rafe’s grandmother, and I knew that no matter how strident her warnings had been, I wouldn’t have heeded them. “Thanks, Mrs. Brooks. It was my own fault. Rafe tried to tell me—I just wasn’t in a place to listen.”
“And that is precisely why I’m here. I know that you went through a very difficult time. It occurred to me that you might benefit from talking to someone who could help you make sense of everything you experienced—and who could help you learn some balance.”
I knit my brows together. “Are you saying—do you mean you?”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head. “No, I’m not qualified for such a thing. I know a little about this and that, but I couldn’t give you what you need.” She drew something from her purse and handed it to me. It was a small cream-colored card. Written in flowing script was a name and telephone number.
“This woman has experience with cases such as yours. She’s from one of the original King families, and she understands things—well, things that are out of the ordinary.” Mrs. Brooks smiled at me. “I promise you, Tasmyn, she is very discreet. Trust me.”
“I’ll have to talk it over with my parents,” I said, looking dubiously at the card.
“I would urge you to do that. I am so relieved that you aren’t keeping secrets from them any longer. You know that can tear families apart.” She looked so prim as she said this that I almost laughed. It was hard to believe that she was descended from one of the most mystically connected families in this whole crazy town.
“Is this a local number?” I asked her, looking curiously at the card again.
“No, it’s not. Actually, Aline practices a little north of here. Quite near Perriman College, in fact.” She arched one brow meaningfully at me.
I quickly tamped down the flare of hurt. “Why would that matter?”
She smiled again, and reached toward me to touch my cheek, so like Rafe that I cringed a little. “Time will tell. Have a little faith.” She rose, all business again as she turned toward the door.
“Thank you, Mrs. Brooks. I appreciate you thinking about me. And please—” I struggled to find the right words. “Take care of Rafe. I hate that I hurt him. And I miss him. But don’t tell him that.”
Her smile this time had more than a touch of sadness. “I know, Tasmyn. But don’t worry. He’ll recover. As will you.” With a little wave over her shoulder, she slipped through the door.
I puzzled for a few minutes over her last cryptic words. As will you? What was I going to recover from? Did she mean Michael? Or was she referring to my feelings toward Rafe?
I went back to my homework, but my mind remained preoccupied with everything Caroline Brooks had said.
I came home from school on Friday with a heavy heart. It had been three days, and I hadn’t heard a word from Michael. It didn’t make any sense to me. Why would he call me every night for months while I ignored him, and then stop the minute I reached out?
The house was silent. My mother and father were both still at work; when I called to tell my mom that I was home, I could tell she was busy, and I didn’t keep her on the line. I had considered stopping to visit with Amber as I had the day before, but I decided I wasn’t in the right state of mind. When I had told her the whole story of Marica, Rafe and Michael, she had listened patiently and nodded wisely.
“You did the right thing,” she told me. “I mean with Rafe. He’s not a bad guy. He’s just not the one for you.” She smiled encouragingly. “But the one—your one—don’t worry. It’s going to work out.”
I arched a questioning brow. “Have you heard from Michael?”
She shook her head, but the serene smile never wavered. “No. But I don’t have any doubts. And you shouldn’t either.”
I was trying. I thought that maybe he had needed time to come to terms with everything,
to think about what he wanted to do. But now I was beginning to fear I really was horribly naïve.
Why would he want me back, after everything I’d done to hurt him? He didn’t even owe me the courtesy of a reply. It was all on me, completely my own fault.
I took a deep breath and blew it out. So what did I do now? I flopped on my bed for a few minutes, staring up at the ceiling. I thought about the future.
Senior year was nearly over. It had been like nothing I’d ever expected. I remembered the plans Michael and I had made. He was going to come home to take me to my senior prom, which was coming up in a few weeks. And then after graduation, we were going to drive up to Perriman so that I could attend freshman orientation. We were going to spend the summer working together at the nursery, and in August, we would drive to college together. And we wouldn’t have to be apart again.
A tear trickled down the side of my face, and angrily I wiped it away. I was so sick of crying. I jumped up from the bed and opened a dresser drawer, looking for the file I kept with all the college information Perriman had sent in the fall, after my early acceptance. I had never changed my admission there, and I hadn’t looked at any other schools either. I guessed I could always attend the local community college. It was close; I could live at home, if Perriman wasn’t an option—and I couldn’t imagine going there. Seeing Michael every day or knowing he was that close would kill me.
I shut the drawer and pulled open another one. Smiling a little through my sniffles, I took out the picture of Michael and me and put it back in its place on the dresser. And then I carefully lay the half sand dollar on top of my jewelry box.
I heard a sound at the front door and looked up in alarm. It was going to take a while for me to learn to relax again, not to always be on guard, expecting to see Marica around the next corner.
There was another rapping sound, and I shook my head, annoyed at my own skittishness. Marica was under lock and key, and no one was going to try to hurt me.
I glanced out the side window, but I couldn’t see anyone on the porch. Probably just a package delivery, I reassured myself as I opened the door.
Michael stood in the doorway. I sucked in a breath and stared while my head spun and my heart galloped.
Everything I had imagined saying to him, all the words, the explanations and apologies had disappeared from my head. I couldn’t utter a single word.
He held open his arms, and I fell into them. As he held me against him—so close, and yet not close enough; it would never again be close enough for me—I heard his wonderfully familiar thoughts exactly mirroring my own mind.
I’m home.
Read on for a sneak peek of
Endless
The conclusion of The King Series
“So what happened next?”
I startled out of my reverie. “I’m sorry?”
Aline Reynolds flipped a hand over impatiently. “Michael showed up on your doorstep after you waited days to hear from him… after you’d been separated for months. You stopped right there. What happened next?”
I smiled just a little and closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the soft chair where I always nestled in Aline’s office.
“After I held onto him for… oh, I don’t know, about five minutes… it felt like I could never let go again, but finally he asked me if he could come in. So I broke all the rules my parents ever gave me about boys being over when they weren’t at home, and I took him into the living room.
“We sat down on the sofa, and for a few minutes, we just looked at each other. I didn’t know what to say, because there was so much inside of me to tell him. I could hear him, though… and it was the best thing ever. I had forgotten how clearly I could hear him—or maybe I’d blocked that memory on purpose.”
“What was he thinking?” Aline was pretty good at keeping me from hearing her thoughts, but she couldn’t hide her feelings so well. Sometimes when I was telling her the story of what had happened last spring, she seemed more like an audience than a therapist.
“He was thinking just the most wonderful things. Like how much he had missed me, and even though I could feel that hurt and pain, it was so amazing that he still loved me that much. And how happy he was to be with me, and that we were whole again, and no one was ever going to pull us apart.”
Aline sighed just a little, and I stifled a grin. Having the most romantic boyfriend in the world could elicit envy, I knew.
“He explained that he hadn’t called me right away because he wanted to see me in person… he knew that he didn’t want to just email or telephone. But he couldn’t leave school until that day. He’d finished taking a final and then driven all the way to my house.
“After he finished talking, I finally told him that I was so sorry for what I had done to us. And Michael took my face in his hands, and he looked into my eyes, and he said I didn’t ever have to be sorry. He said that he knew I’d been under some pretty strong bad influence, and I realized he meant Marica.”
The pang of mixed shame and regret struck just sharply as it had that day. Aline picked up my wince.
“So Michael believed that the fault for your break up could be laid totally at the feet of Marica Lacusta?”
I nodded. “And in a way, I understood that. It made it easier to blame someone else. Easier to forgive me, easier for us to move on. We’d had some experience with people around Marica and Nell doing strange things—like Amber. She thought they were her friends, and she lied to her parents, took part in coven activities… so it’s not as odd as it might have been for Michael to believe that.”
“And what do you think about that? About Michael blaming Marica?” The therapist was fully back in charge, I thought wryly.
“I thought—I don’t know. Like I said, I understand it. And it would be pretty easy for me agree to that. But I think it might be letting me off the hook too easily.”
“Really? In what way?”
I shifted uncomfortably as I tried to put my feelings into words. “Marica was influencing me. That’s true. But she never tried to get me to break up with Michael. She never said that if I didn’t end the relationship, she wouldn’t work with me. I was aware of her feelings, but the decision to act—that really falls squarely on me. I heard what Michael thought that day last December, and I made the choice to walk away.”
Aline cocked her head, considering me. She was quiet, as though she were listening to a voice I couldn’t quite hear. According to her, the only gift she possessed from her family—one of the extraordinary first families of King, Florida—was that of empathy and insight. I recalled our very first session together, a little over a month ago, when she had told me that she considered herself an excavator more than anything else.
“You already have the answers, but I’m here to give you the tools that will help you uncover those answers.”
Now she nodded at me. “Tell me something, Tasmyn. And you don’t need to respond right now; you can think about it until next time, if you want. But I’d like you to consider this: what if you heard Michael think that same thing today? What would you do?”
I didn’t need to stop and think about it. I had thought about this more often than I liked, and sometimes, in my nightmares, Michael had never really come back to me.
There was still so much I had to sort out about the mess that was my life last spring. But this was one answer I already had.
“I would tell him that I had heard it. I would ask him why he was thinking that. But I wouldn’t leave him. I know I can’t handle that pain again. If any good came out of all the misery… well, it’s that I know one thing for sure. Michael and I—we’re meant to be together, forever. And that’s the most certain thing in my life.”
Tawdra Thompson Kandle lives in central Florida with her husband, children, cats and dog.
She loves homeschooling, cooking, traveling and reading, not necessarily in that order.
And yes, she has purple hair.
Kandle, Tawdra, King 03 - Restless
King 03 - Restless Page 20
